


What You Mean

by paulmcfartney



Category: McLennon - Fandom, The Beatles
Genre: M/M, McLennon, read it tho cos it's mad cute i promise, teddy boys, this one is boring tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 08:42:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13337556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paulmcfartney/pseuds/paulmcfartney
Summary: A few weeks into their blossoming relationship, Paul and John fight over Paul's future.





	What You Mean

There he was, standing on the street corner, clad in a dark sweater and those black drainies that John oh so adored on him. The smoke left his mouth in a heavenly sort of way that made John giddy, thrilled to see the darling boy that often invaded his dreams. Paul finally noticed him and took one last puff of his now tiny cigarette before stamping it under the sole of his boot. They met on the street, both boys smiling nearly ear to ear, and continued together toward Calderstones Park. Their knuckles would usually brush as they walked, which was quite intentional. To the rest of the world, they were just two young troublemakers who noticably always stood a bit too close to each other. But to the two of them, they'd jokingly agreed on the term 'secret lovers,' feeling sparks everytime they touched. It was their little unspoken way of showing affection in public, in fear of being criticized by, well, anyone really.

Something clicked inside of John's brain when he realized that Paul had his hands shoved deep into his pants pockets. The boy's brows were furrowed together in thought and he still hadn't spoken. It was almost painful being so close to the boy, yet not being able to touch him as he wanted. Today, Paul hadn't even made an effort to make any physical contact with him, and John felt as if he were about to kill over on the side of the road or something. It was odd, being that they'd been attached at the hip for nearly two years now. The foot of space between them was almost excruciating. John eyed him suspiciously, wondering what was going on behind those dark, innocent eyes he cherished.

They arrived at the park and walked through a vast number of familiar trails until they'd found their hiding place. It was a small fort, a lean-to really, that was positioned up against a long line of trees. He and Paul had worked diligently for almost two days straight after John had suggested that the build a little cabin of sorts, being that they spent a lot of their time in that same spot anyway. They'd furnished it with one blanket on the ground to sit on, and one to cover the entrance for privacy. It was a cute little place, closed off from the rest of the world, like their own little piece of paradise. They sat down together and let the blanket fall over the entrance, shielding themselves from the outside world and anyone that would accidentally stumble across their small fort of sorts. John took notice if all of the discarded cigarette butts strewn across their makeshift floor and thought about cleaning them someday, but he knew he'd soon forget about it. He leaned his back up against one of the larger trees, Paul's head falling to rest gently in his lap. John fished his glasses out of his jacket pocket, just so that he could clearly see the darling boy below him. A rough finger crept toward the boy's round face and began to trace little swirls and circles around his temples and down his jawline.

They were at peace for a bit, enjoying each other's company, but something was still itching at John's mind. Something about the younger lad still felt off. "Paul?" he asked, mind still catching up to the potentially threatening conversation that this could turn into. "Are you alright? Earlier, you seemed, I dunno, kind of odd. And it wasn't a bad thing, really. I'm just a little concerned is all..." he continued but trailed off gradually. Paul made eye contact with him and John could see something foreign cloud over his eyes. Was it confusion? Sadness? John couldn't really tell on his own, so he waited patiently for the boy to respond. And he did, soon after taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "I'm fine, really. It's just..." He pulled his pink lower lip between his teeth, anxious. John stroked his hair behind his ears in an attempt to make this easier for him, as he was noticably having a difficult time getting his exact words out. "It's just that, uh, Dad doesn't really like the whole idea of me goin' off with the band an' all." There was a slight tremble in his already thin tone. "He wants me to get some sort of stable career that I can live comfortably off of, mentioned somethin' about goin' off to London to find a well-payin' job there." The last part tugged mercilessly at John's heart strings, unable to imagine life without seeing Paul everyday, unable to see his future without Paul at his side.

"Well, that's just fuckin' ridiculous, mate! I'm glad you don't bloody agree with him," John commented, searching the younger boys eyes for approval of what he'd just said. When Paul didn't lose that stern look, John began to worry. "John, I-I think that I do agree with him." John felt as if he were simultaneously about to burst into tears and punch the boy at his idiotic statement. "Do you even bloody hear yourself, love? You're like his little puppet or something. Christ I'll be damned if he didn't tell you what to wear this morning," John cried in quick succession, not letting Paul get so much as a peep in. At this point, Paul had sat up to face him properly, and planned on shooting something back in response, but the other boy feverishly continued. "a bloody control freak he is, mate. You'd be better off just tellin' him to fuck off an' let you live your life as you damn well please!" Paul could feel tears begin to sting at his eyes, and before he knew it, they were falling against his will. "Sorry that I actually wanna have a comfortable life, John. And Jesus, he may have suggested it but I ended up making the fuckin' decision on my own!" At this point, they were shouting, and they wouldn't be shocked to see one or two people wander towards their rage-filled voices.

John could feel his blood boil and course through his veins. "The man's putting all these silly words right into your fuckin' mouth, love! You don't even realize that he is!" the oldest snapped back. It was unreal how truly twisted this all sounded. He was sure that Paul didn't really want to leave the group to go and pursue some shit job that'll only leave him unsatisfied when it all came down to it. Paul was seething mad and could almost feel a slight headache start to pound at the back of his head. He wanted to say something else, but soon lost the words. They sat in silence, diverting all eye contact away from each other. Soon, Paul was only sniffling in the silence of the forest, other than the light rustle of the leaves from the breeze. "I-I don't know what I w-want to do yet." The sound of the boy's voice nearly shattered John's poor heart. "I know that losin' you would be more of a personal hell than a blessing, contrary to popular belief." He earned a quiet chuckle from John before the silence overcame them once more momentarily. "I think I'm in love with you," Paul croaked out suddenly, straining his voice even further. It was like John could physically feel the boy's pain through his words; the tremble and slight squeak in his voice made his chest twist in pain. "and that s-scares me to fuckin' death."

It was now John's turn to sniffle a bit. He took Paul in his arms and held him tight against his chest, never ever wanting to let go. "Fuck, Paul, I-I didn't know-" "It's alright if you don't feel the same, John, but I don't want your pity," Paul muttered, interrupting. John found himself shaking his head back and forth and chuckled lightly. "If only you'd let me finish, love." He paused for a moment before pulling Paul to sit across his lap. A set of hands tangled themselves together around John's neck, gently stroking through bits of his hair. Paul's eyes were glassy and red and John couldn't help but shed a tear just from looking at him. "I thought you'd figured this out by now, but I guess you really are that bloody oblivious." John's hands were placed daintily on Paul's hips to steady him, and he hoped that the boy wasn't able to feel the slightly more prominent tremors that were coursing through them.

"I don't think I've ever loved anyone as much as I love you," John confessed quietly. He felt Paul shiver against him. "and fuck, if you go away, there wouldn't be any point to continue the band, or us," John trailed off, not really wanting to hear it himself. Thinking about it made his chest tighten and ache. The thought that Paul could be leaving the band, and more importantly him, was mortifying. They sat in silence for a while, John knowing exactly what he had to do. He felt awful having to do this to his boyfriend, but he knew that there wasn't any other option. Taking a shaky breath and closing his eyes momentarily, he let the words reluctantly fall from his lips. "It's either me and the band, or your dad and a shit job."

Paul's head raised from where he had previously burrowed it in the other boys neck. There was a pang in his chest, realizing that he really was going to have to make this agonizing decision whether he liked it or not. He knew that he didn't want his life and future to be thrown down the drain with a job that didn't bring in a steady income. Then again, he wanted to do something that he was enthusiastic about, something that he thoroughly enjoyed doing, somewhere where he could create with the one he loved the most. Any silly office job would melt his brain, and he knew deep down that it wasn't worth it. Then there was John. Paul couldn't deny that he was most definitely going to take his boyfriend into consideration when making a decision about something so important. Losing John would be devastating when he was the only one that motivated him to be the best musician and writer that he can be. The thought of not being able to hold and kiss him everyday was terrifying. Part of him apprehensively wondered what John would say if he asked him to come to London with him. Paul felt as if he were being torn apart, one half of his heart going to his father and the other going to John. It was incredibly painful, and he felt like he wanted to curl into a ball and shut himself away from the world forever.

The sound of John's voice brought him out of his internal conflict. "We're gonna be famous someday y'know," John mused, his eyes soft and kind, unlike the last time he had caught his gaze when they had been shouting. It was refreshing in a way; it had cleared his racing mind. Paul nuzzled his nose into John's neck like he had before, his warm breath ghosting over John's pulse, feeling him shiver in response. He pressed a single light kiss on his jawline. The boy continued. "Just picture it: birds throwin' themselves at us, all of us livin' in giant, posh mansions in the countryside, not havin' to worry over payin' all the bills 'cos we'll be more than able to pay 'em." Paul pressed his nose further into the older boy's neck and hummed contently. "Mm, but how can you be so sure?" Paul muttered. The future that John was describing sounded like a dream that he'd never want to wake up from, but it was incredibly hard for him to picture because of all the inevitable obstacles and hardships that stood before it. 'Then again,' Paul contemplated, 'with every risk comes a reward.' With John and his best mates in mind he found himself muttering, "I'm gonna take the risk," into John's jaw.

"Hm?" John inquired, having not heard the boy properly the first time. Paul lifted his head to face John, faces so close that their noses were brushing past against other. "I'm gonna take the risk," he repeated, louder and more confident in his sudden choice. "Fuck London and fuck what Dad says. I wanna play in a band with my best mates and the most talented and gorgeous man England's ever fuckin' seen." His voice was soft, yet firm, as he was now completely sure of his decision. Paul giggled lightly as the palms of his hands swept around to John's flushed cheeks to pull him in for a chaste kiss.

After they pulled away, Paul could clearly see the bright glint in his partner's eyes. They sat for a moment, foreheads pressed together and eyes locked, until John finally spoke. "Christ Macca, we would've been a fuckin' mess if you left. I would've been a fuckin' mess if you left." John's hands drifted down towards the small of Paul's back to pull him closer. "You're so beautiful," John gushed, eyes dreamy, and brought a warm hand to Paul's plump cheek, his thumb stroking up and down. Paul leaned into his palm and snickered. "Not for long, I still have to tell Dad what I've decided." John rolled his eyes, showing briefly what Paul thought to be a sliver of annoyance. "If that old git comes after you, I swear I'll-" "Save it, John," Paul sighed, cutting him off and grinning goofily. He ran a gentle hand through the short hair on the back of John's head, which eventually pulled him down towards Paul so that he could press a sweet kiss to the center of his forehead, later removing the boy's glasses so that his lips found his now fluttering eyelids.

The once crisp breeze had turned into much stronger, nipping gusts by the time they crawled out of their modest fort. Paul's two gloved hands found John's icy, bare ones and pulled their chests together to meet in the middle, mouths melding only seconds later in a passionate kiss. John's lips were warm and inviting, as always, but still chapped from the frigid weather that had been hinting at the oncoming winter. Paul's fingers brushed up the boys torso to grip the lapels of his jacket, pulling him impossibly closer and wanting more. Their lips slowed and the kiss grew more leisurely and gentle by the moment. Paul savored their kiss, as he had always made sure to, but knew that there would be plenty more in the years to come. The boys' futures were already bright, but they knew deep down that with each other, they were platinum, gleaming as brilliant as the stars above.


End file.
